


All Of The Lights

by AbsolutelyNothing



Category: Panic! at the Disco, The Brobecks
Genre: Aftercare, M/M, Spanking, sorry the aftercare got so long but not actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 09:52:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3170498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbsolutelyNothing/pseuds/AbsolutelyNothing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon gets overwhelmed, trapped in his own head like a spring wound too tight. Dallon has to release him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Of The Lights

**Author's Note:**

> you know what i need / want you to see everything

Dallon doesn’t think about it at first, putting it off as Brendon being upset about some melody or lyric he’s working on. Most likely, it’s not coming out perfectly and Brendon is being temporarily driven insane by the problem. He’s wound too tightly, his actions agitated and his manner less than pleasant, but Dallon ignores the behavioral changes, missing all of the signs.

But when a week goes by and Brendon gets steadily more and more upset, Dallon starts to notice that there’s more going on with Brendon than just a writing or musical problem.

It’s evident in the way Brendon snaps at him over breakfast and then proceeds to finish his coffee with a guilty look on his face, avoiding Dallon’s eyes by hiding behind his coffee cup. He doesn’t snap again, but he doesn’t apologize for the incident either.

Brendon snaps at him again a couple days later when Dallon gets into the shower before Brendon. (“Just when I was going to get in, what the fuck, Dallon”). He looks upset immediately afterwards, face pinched like he isn’t sure why he’s said it. Brendon does apologize for that one, but Dallon still catches him sulking on the couch when he’s coming out of the bathroom after the shower.

What actually makes Dallon notice what Brendon really needs is the morning when Brendon drops the coffee mug on the floor. His moodiness seems to have increased tenfold since Dallon was unceremoniously woken up by Brendon shoving him to the other side of the bed, complaining about personal space. It struck Dallon as ironic, since Brendon is a limpet half the time, but he was only half awake and promptly rolled over, going back to sleep. But now Brendon is banging cupboard doors and slamming stuff around while he makes coffee.

Dallon is sitting at the kitchen table, checking Twitter with one hand and eating buttered toast with the other, trying to ignore Brendon when there’s a crash and then the sound of something shattering against the tile floor of the kitchen. Dallon looks up to see shards of porcelain from the striped coffee mug all over the floor.

Brendon stares at it blankly, like he isn’t sure what just happened. His expression quickly darkens though and he swears angrily “Fuck.”

He doesn’t move at all, body trembling as he stands there with clenched fists, looking angry and upset, his body twitching like he’s full of energy and doesn’t know quite how to direct it. After a couple seconds, he slams a hand down on the counter, a couple more expletives leaving his mouth.

Dallon stays quiet, watching Brendon, both the toast and his phone forgotten in his hand. He’s not even looking at the shattered coffee cup and it’s dead silent in the room after Brendon finishes cursing loudly. He looks more than upset, almost like he’s about to cry or scream, every muscle in his body tight and rigid as he stares hatefully at the broken cup.

Dallon inhales a little sharply, something suddenly shifting into place as he takes in Brendon’s stance and facial expression. He’s finally looking at what’s been in front of his eyes for over a week and he hasn’t taken the time to try and see it. Brendon’s behavior isn’t stress over wrong notes in chords or a word that just won’t work in a lyric, it’s something deeper. Dallon recognizes it now as the way Brendon acts when he gets too involved in his own head and can’t get out of his thoughts, caught up in petty problems. He described it to Dallon once as feeling trapped and foreign in his own skin, unable to escape by himself.

Dallon feels overwhelmingly guilty; he should have been monitoring Brendon more closely when he wasn’t acting like himself, but they’ve been busy with things like playing a couple home shows and unpacking from tour. Dallon had only just remembered to go grocery shopping two days ago and they’ve been off tour for nearly three weeks. Even if Dallon isn’t paying attention, Brendon usually isn’t reserved about asking for what he needs and he certainly hasn’t tried to ask for release.

He tries to let the feelings of guilt go and focuses instead on the rise and fall of Brendon’s chest as Brendon’s breathing gets heavier, like he’s about to scream again or burst into tears. “Brendon,” Dallon says quietly and Brendon’s head snaps up like he’s forgotten Dallon was even in the room, his face a confusing mix of emotions, flitting from anger to anguish to guilt and back again.

“I-I’ll clean it-" Brendon starts, shifting his weight restlessly and before Dallon even thinks about it, he shakes his head. Brendon’s face settles on confusion and Dallon realizes that Brendon doesn’t know what he needs either, which would explain why he never asked for it at all.

“Go to the bedroom,” Dallon looks right into Brendon’s eyes, voice soft but full of authority, leaving no room for argument. It’s not a tone that he has to bring out terribly often, and Brendon always listens when he uses it.

Brendon’s body goes rigid for a second, his brows drawing together as he looks even more confused. He shakes his head a little bit before his eyes are lit with comprehension. “I don’t need-” He starts to object.

“Go,” Dallon interjects and Brendon’s mouth snaps shut and he purses his lips, obviously unhappy with the order. He starts to move along the counter thought, skirting the mess on the floor. “I’ll clean it up,” Dallon adds and Brendon nods, picking his way through the shards and out of the room, his body hunched and tight and small.

Dallon sighs a little when he’s gone, anticipation and direction settling inside of him, both feelings more than welcome. He knows what to do for Brendon now, he knows what he needs to give Brendon a release.

He retrieves the broom and dust pan and sweeps up all of the shards he can see, his thoughts on Brendon waiting in the bedroom the whole time. It’s been a while since Brendon has gotten this out of himself before Dallon has noticed; usually Brendon asks or Dallon picks up on it right away, but he’d let himself go lax when they were home and not on tour, not needing to watch for the signs as much with no one else around.

The guilt creeps back in and he tries to shake it out of his head as he gets out the vacuum and goes over the kitchen with it to make sure he doesn’t miss tiny shards that he couldn’t see. He expects initial resistance from Brendon, but he also knows that once he can get Brendon to start unwinding, it will help Brendon center himself again.

When the kitchen is clean again, Dallon drops his half eaten toast in the trash and goes down the hall, rounding the corner and starting up the stairs. The morning sunlight is streaming through the windows, casting the landing in alternating patterns of blinding light and dark shadows as Dallon makes his way down the hall to the master bedroom.

The door is slightly ajar and Dallon pushes the door open without warning. Brendon is standing in the middle of the room, looking nervous and angry, hands clenched around the material of his pajama pants, eyes bright and darting around behind the frames of his glasses.

“I didn’t mean to break the cup, I just pulled it out of the cupboard and it caught on the edge, fuck, it was an accident,” His tone is laced with anger and he won’t look at Dallon. Dallon pushes the door shut enough so that the doorjamb rests against the door frame.

“I’m not mad,” Dallon replies instantly, and that makes Brendon’s eyes meet his, surprise flickering on Brendon’s face for a second. “I mean, I’m mildly upset that a cup broke and it had to be cleaned up, but I’m not mad at you for accidentally breaking it,” He amends, feeling the need to clarify that what’s about to happen isn’t because he’s mad at Brendon.

He can see the taut line of Brendon’s body beneath the baggy pajamas, the way he’s drawn up tight and folded into himself. His shoulders are hunched a little, but most of the withdrawing is inside of Brendon’s mind and doesn’t have a physical manifestation.

“Okay,” Brendon says warily, watching Dallon as he walks closer to Brendon. “I’m going to go and see if I can get anywhere with the lyrics I was working on last night-“ He breaks off when Dallon reaches out and sets his hand firmly on Brendon’s shoulder.  His eyes are wide and when Dallon touches him, he can feel the tenseness in Brendon’s body, the tightness in his muscles, and sympathy floods him.

“I’m still going to spank you,” He tells Brendon, staring down at him. The air in the room already seems lighter as the words leave his mouth, the reason he ordered Brendon to the bedroom spelled out plainly, no room for misunderstanding. He runs his hand down Brendon’s arm as he speaks, feeling the way Brendon’s body gets even tighter and he recoils a little, eyes flashing, but between that breath and the next, he relaxes, going nearly pliant. His body hardens again in a flash, but Dallon feels it.

There’s no surprise in Brendon’s eyes, which means that he knew why Dallon directed him to the bedroom without letting him clean up his mess.

Brendon’s breathing is coming faster and heavier now, almost soft pants and there are spots of color high on his cheekbones. There’s a hint of anticipation in the way Brendon releases his pajama pants with one hand, the material wrinkled from his fingers gripping so tightly, and grips Dallon’s wrist instead. He swallows once, his Adam’s apple bobbing before he nods slowly. “Okay” He finally breathes out and Dallon sighs with relief internally, having expected more argument. Brendon must have figured it out, at least a little, while Dallon was cleaning.

“Not as a punishment,” He tells Brendon firmly and Brendon nods, looking a little bit relieved. He looks more relaxed already even as his fingers tighten around Dallon’s wrist, squeezing until the grip is nearly painful.

“Get undressed,” Dallon orders Brendon gently and Brendon nods again, his fingers releasing Dallon’s wrist, almost flinging it at him. Dallon raises an eyebrow at the abrupt return of Brendon's anger, but doesn’t comment.

Brendon sets his glasses down on their nightstand, out of harm’s way. He doesn’t say anything, he at least knows better than that, but the movements as he pulls his shirt up and over his head and shoves his pants down to his ankles are nearly angry and frantic in their roughness. There’s a defiance in Brendon’s gaze as he pushes his underwear down and kicks them away, but his eyes quickly drop, color blooming on his cheeks. A smirk draws one corner of Dallon’s mouth up as he takes in Brendon's nearly hard cock.

Dallon crosses the room, pulling the chair that’s sitting in the corner to a more central position and sits down on it, beckoning for Brendon.

Brendon meets his gaze, his eyes only holding anticipation and there’s no hint of the defiance and anger that was there just seconds earlier, obviously not bothering to fake any more protests, before he steps closer and Dallon helps him bend over his lap.

Brendon knows the position, but lets Dallon guide him into it anyway, his head and shoulders bent down, bare ass raised in the air, feet pressing against the carpeted floor.

Dallon spends a few seconds just looking, knowing that the anticipation kills Brendon since he can’t see Dallon like this. He runs his left hand along Brendon’s spine, feeling the vertebrae beneath his fingers. There’s the tension Dallon expected in Brendon’s body as well, due in part to the way Brendon is drawn up in anticipation, but mostly from the built up stress and anxiety of the past week and a half. Dallon presses his hand down on Brendon’s lower back, his elbow between Brendon’s shoulder blades to pin him in place.

He knows Brendon is biting his lip in frustration, wanting the spanking and dreading it at the same time. He gets off on the stinging pain, but he always hates needing it like this at first.

Dallon brings his right hand up, running his fingers over the soft skin of Brendon’s ass. He drags it out, trailing teasingly over the skin for a bit before squeezing gently at his left cheek.

Brendon makes a small sound and Dallon looks up, lifting his hand away from Brendon. Brendon goes quiet, but squirms a little bit, most likely trying not to whine.

Dallon drags it out for another few seconds, gathering himself. He allows himself to slip into a place in his own head where it’s calm and quiet, closing his eyes briefly.

When he opens them again, he’s more aware of everything, from the way Brendon’s breathing is already uneven to the taut line of his body, drawn up tight like a bow as he waits for the contact of Dallon’s hand.

Dallon lifts his hand higher, bringing it down and firmly connecting with the flesh of Brendon’s ass, his slightly cupped hand producing a thudding sound on Brendon’s skin, which immediately tinges pink.  Brendon squirms again, but he’s pinned by Dallon’s left arm and he doesn’t go very far.

“Count for me, Brendon,” Dallon orders. The counting thing won’t last once he gets Brendon to relax completely, but it helps Brendon focus on the spanking and not on his reactions at the start of it. If Brendon thinks too much, the spanking is rendered useless.

“One,” Brendon counts nearly immediately, breathing labored and voice tense.

Dallon spanks him again and again, and Brendon obediently counts until they reach ten. Dallon brings his hand down again for the eleventh stroke, his palm flat this time and the action creates a sharp sting and leaves a red handprint on the slightly pink skin of Brendon’s ass.

“Eleven,” Brendon counts out after a couple seconds, but his voice is deeper and a little slower, signs that he's slipping into himself and the spanking is working as the cathartic release Dallon intended.

“Good,” Dallon replies. He gives Brendon another swat with the same open palm, the second red handprint overlapping the first and Brendon whimpers a little bit, but manages to say twelve after a few heavy breaths.

His counting gets progressively slower and his voice gets deeper and more unclear until after the eighteenth stroke, Brendon doesn’t respond at all, even when Dallon stops spanking him, giving Brendon’s ass a slight reprieve.

“Brendon,” He says softly and Brendon whines softly in response, mumbling something incoherent that may or may not be a number. Dallon smiles to himself, pleased. “You don’t have to count anymore,” He continues and he feels Brendon’s body relax completely where he’s laid across Dallon’s lap, finally allowed to stop thinking.

Dallon brings his hand up again, bringing it down hard across the bottom of Brendon’s butt and the top of his thighs, his hand bouncing off with a sharp smack. Brendon moans outright at that, the sound soft but clear.

Dallon continues, counting out loud to himself now, all the way up until thirty swats and Brendon’s breathing is deep and even, moans slipping out every time Dallon’s hand connects firmly with his ass. “Thirty,” Dallon says firmly, his own voice deeper and more authoritative than usual. “That’s it baby,” The skin of Brendon’s ass is pleasingly red and abused, imprints of Dallon’s fingers overlapping at the edges of where he was spanked.

Brendon squirms on his lap slightly, ass arching up a little before he relaxes again since Dallon is still pinning him down. “Good,” Dallon says when Brendon relaxes, beyond pleased with how much Brendon has unwound. He takes his arm off Brendon’s back, running the palm of his hand over Brendon’s shoulder blades. The tension has melted away and Brendon is nearly limp where he’s still laid over Dallon’s lap. “Get up,” Dallon orders him, though his voice has lost some of it’s commanding tone. He doesn’t need it so much now.

Brendon pushes himself up off of Dallon’s legs, struggling a little, but then he’s sinking to his knees beside the chair, looking up at Dallon, eyes wide and dark. He takes hold of Dallon’s pajama pants, pulling himself around so that he’s kneeling in front of Dallon. He leans in close to the bulge in Dallon’s pants, never breaking eye contact. “I want,” Brendon says when Dallon raises an eyebrow. He licks his lips, waiting for Dallon’s response. “Please,” He adds after a few seconds of silence.

Dallon reaches out, threading the fingers of one hand into Brendon’s hair and tugging a little. Brendon keens, mouth dropping open. Dallon uses his grip to push Brendon back a little so he can stand up, Brendon still on his knees in front of Dallon. Brendon leans forward, mouthing at Dallon's hardness through his pants, making Dallon hiss. He got hard spanking Brendon, just like he always does, aroused by the way Brendon always takes it so well.

Dallon curls his other hand in Brendon’s hair, nodding at Brendon once when Brendon pulls back and looks up at him. Brendon reaches up immediately, pulling Dallon's pants and boxers down around his thighs. He leans in, kissing the head of Dallon’s cock before slipping his mouth over it, tonguing at the slit. Dallon groans, pushing his hips forward into Brendon’s mouth. Brendon takes it, relaxing his throat and swallowing when Dallon’s cock hits the back of his throat.

Brendon is fantastic at giving head, always has been, but it’s different when he’s in this state, desperate to please Dallon before giving thought to his own pleasure. There’s nothing hurried about the movements of his mouth and tongue on Dallon’s cock, only desire and lust.

Dallon tugs Brendon’s hair, causing Brendon to moan around his cock and look up. His eyes are dark and he’s clearly enjoying this, working his mouth more eagerly around Dallon’s cock. He slides all the way down again, his lips around the base when Dallon tugs his hair, knowing how much Brendon likes that.

Dallon lets himself give into the pleasure, thrusting shallowly into Brendon’s mouth, admiring the way Brendon swallows smoothly around him. His cock throbs, heat and pleasure travelling up his spine and spreading out to his limbs. He tips his head back when he’s close to the edge, and it only takes another swipe of Brendon’s tongue over the head of his cock before he lets himself release into Brendon’s mouth.

Brendon keeps sucking, licking over Dallon’s cock and swallowing all of his come. He keeps working his mouth and tongue until Dallon is finished coming and even then, he keeps licking gently over Dallon’s softening cock, sucking gently at the head. Dallon pushes him back and Brendon whines, looking desperately up at Dallon, but Dallon ignores the way arousal floods his body all over again at the wanton look and tugs on Brendon’s hair, signaling Brendon to stand up.

Brendon stands on slightly shaking legs as Dallon pulls his pants back up. Brendon whimpers at that and Dallon reaches for him, sitting down in the chair again before tugging Brendon down into his lap.

“Good boy,” Dallon whispers into Brendon’s hair, holding him close. Brendon’s soft whines change to soft moans at the praise. Dallon slides his hand down Brendon’s torso, tracing the soft skin, feeling the way Brendon’s bones shift and move beneath it as Brendon squirms slightly, his ass no doubt smarting and stinging where it’s pressed against Dallon’s thighs.

His hand moves down between Brendon’s legs, wrapping a hand around his hard and leaking cock. Dallon strokes lightly once, base to tip before he thumbs over the head, enjoying the way Brendon goes nearly limp at the pleasure before arching into it, nearly falling off Dallon’s lap before Dallon wraps his free arm around Brendon’s waist.

“Such a good boy,” Dallon murmurs as he keeps stroking Brendon’s cock. Brendon’s mouth is open and he’s panting heavily. He's arching his hips slightly into Dallon's hand and Dallon can tell that he's on the edge.

“Are you going to come for me, Brendon?” Dallon asks, voice low and sultry. Brendon’s head drops back to Dallon’s shoulder as Dallon rubs his calloused thumb over the leaking head of Brendon’s cock, pressing directly into the slit.

“Y-Yes,” Brendon pants out, eyes closed. He releases over Dallon’s hand with a moan after a few more strokes, both of his hands gripping at the arm Dallon has around him.

Dallon keeps stroking, drawing out the pleasure as Brendon keeps spilling over his fingers. Even after Brendon is finished, he doesn’t stop until Brendon whines, trying to turn his head and press his face into Dallon’s neck, unable to escape the touch to his over sensitive cock.

Dallon lets up then, releasing Brendon’s cock and bringing his messy hand up to Brendon’s mouth. Brendon laps at his own come on Dallon’s hand, cleaning it off with small sweeps of his tongue. When he’s finished, he goes still and pliant against Dallon’s chest, his breathing deep and even.

Dallon turns him a little bit so he’s sitting sideways on Dallon’s lap and wraps his arms around Brendon, pressing his face into Brendon’s hair. “My good boy, my Brendon,” He coos softly and Brendon makes a soft sound, pressing his face into the curve of Dallon’s neck, his body completely relaxed in Dallon’s arms. Dallon brings one hand up, carding it softly through the silky strands of Brendon’s hair.

They sit in silence for a few minutes until Brendon starts to squirm again and then he pulls back a little bit. "Thank you," He murmurs, voice soft and weak.

Dallon smiles again, feeling protectiveness and love overtake him. “You needed that,” He states and Brendon doesn’t disagree, but he does squirm on Dallon’s lap again. “You okay?” Dallon questions.

“Stings,” Brendon nearly whispers after a few seconds, rubbing his face against Dallon’s skin in agitation.

Dallon nods, kissing the top of Brendon’s head to try and soothe him. “Bath time,” He says decisively. Brendon makes an appreciative noise in response, relaxing again. Dallon manages to stand himself up with Brendon heavy in his arms, one arm under Brendon’s knees and the other around Brendon’s back. Brendon clings with his arms around Dallon’s neck as Dallon carries Brendon to their bathroom, setting him down on the bathroom counter.

Brendon whines in protest when Dallon pulls away to go and start the bath. Dallon stops the drain and starts the water, adjusting the temperature so he doesn't accidentally scald Brendon.

“I’m here,” Dallon says, straightening up and stepping back over to the counter, setting his hands on Brendon’s thighs. Brendon gives him a small smile, his eyes full of love and he sighs contentedly, his hands gripping Dallon’s biceps. He looks blissed out and peaceful, none of the agitation and stress that had been present earlier.

He draws Dallon closer, wrapping his arms around Dallon’s still clothed torso, resting his head on Dallon’s chest. Dallon brings one hand up, drawing shapes absently on Brendon’s bare back until the bath has filled up enough. Dallon pulls away with a soft kiss to Brendon’s forehead and goes back to the bathtub, shutting the water off.

Brendon watches his every move intently and when Dallon turns back around, he holds his arms out. Dallon laughs, picking Brendon up again. He crosses to the tub before gently laying Brendon down in the bathwater. Brendon sighs appreciatively, his eyes closing as his body is placed in the water.

Dallon strokes the hair back off his forehead and Brendon opens his eyes. “I’m going to wash you now,” Dallon says and picks up the body wash on the edge of the tub.

Brendon nods briefly, his eyes slipping closed again as Dallon starts to wash his body. He lets out soft mewls as Dallon’s hands slide over his body and Dallon hasn’t felt this peaceful in a long time. He helps Brendon rinse himself off when he’s done getting washed and then leans over the edge of the tub, kissing Brendon’s forehead.

“Time to get out B,” He says softly and Brendon’s eyes open before he sits up a little bit. Dallon stands, reaching down to pull Brendon up and out of the water. Brendon isn’t as shaky when he stands up this time, but he’s not stable either and Dallon keeps both hands on him as Brendon gets out of the tub so that he doesn’t fall.

He wraps Brendon in one of their freshly washed fluffy towels and Brendon looks up at him plaintively, eyes dark and owlish even without his glasses. Dallon’s heart melts a little bit and he gives in, rubbing Brendon down with the towel, making sure he’s completely dry before he reaches past Brendon to let the bathwater out, keeping one hand on Brendon’s waist the whole time.

“I want cuddles,” Brendon speaks for the first time since they came into the bathroom, his voice soft and whispery.

“Let’s get you taken care of and then we’ll cuddle in bed, I promise,” Dallon says, bending to get his arm under Brendon’s knees again, picking him up. He carries Brendon back into the bedroom, Brendon’s skin now smelling of lavender and jasmine.

Instead of laying Brendon on the bed, he sets Brendon feet first onto the floor, Brendon briefly clutching at Dallon’s arm to steady himself. Dallon stretches, reaching for the tube of lotion on top of his dresser and uncaps it.

Brendon watches him steadily, staying silent, shivering in the warm air of the bedroom, though he turns and presses his hands against the wall, his pink ass on display. Dallon takes it in appreciatively, looking at the outlines of his fingers still on the skin as he applies lotion to the tender skin. Brendon stays still but whimpers through the whole process, his head dropped down, forehead resting against the wall.

“All done,” Dallon finally says, standing up and running his hand up Brendon’s side as he does so. He picks a pair of Brendon’s underwear, red briefs, off the pile of clean laundry in the basket beside the dresser and Brendon turns from the wall. He takes the underwear from Dallon, putting them on and supporting himself against Dallon as he does so.

“Bed?” He asks plainly, his voice slow and deep, but Dallon knows the question is urgent in Brendon’s mind; all Brendon wants right now is for Dallon to cuddle him in their bed.

“Aren’t you cold?” Dallon asks and Brendon whines a little bit, shaking his head even as he keeps shivering in the warm air, unable to stop it.

Dallon raises an eyebrow, eyes darting to the chair still in the middle of their bedroom and Brendon’s whine changes, this time a sound of denial and rejection and he nods reluctantly instead, looking down at the floor.

Dallon tilts Brendon’s head up, kissing his lips gently to soothe him and then reaches down into the basket again, pulling out one of his own sweaters resting atop the pile. “Up,” He says and Brendon obediently raises his arms, letting Dallon pull the soft cream colored material over his head. When it settles on him, the sweater’s sleeves cover Brendon’s hands and the hem falls to the top of his thighs, making him look smaller than he actually is.

He’s quite possibly the most adorable thing Dallon has ever seen in his whole life.

“Cuddles in bed now, baby,” He says softly and Brendon turns, crossing the room unsteadily, but his movements are still much more fluid and loose than they were prior. He climbs onto the bed immediately, looking over his shoulder, ass in the air. Dallon shivers a bit, thinks of fucking Brendon on his hands and knees later when Brendon is coherent again.

“You promised,” Brendon says, a whining tone still in his voice, his lower lip stuck out in a pout as he looks at Dallon.

Dallon crosses the room, getting onto the bed next to Brendon, who immediately latches onto him, trying to wrap himself around Dallon’s body.

“Hold on a minute, B,” Dallon replies dryly, managing to pull the blankets out from beneath their bodies and pull them up over them instead. He lays down and Brendon immediately glues himself to Dallon’s body, his head resting on Dallon’s shoulder, one leg slung over his hip and both of his arms around Dallon’s neck. Dallon wraps his arms around Brendon’s torso, kissing Brendon’s hair. “Feel better now?”

Brendon hums appreciatively, snuggling his face deeper into Dallon’s shoulder. “Yes,” He whispers. “I needed you so bad and I didn’t realize.”

“I wasn’t paying attention either,” Dallon replies softly. “I didn’t realize until this morning what you needed. I’m sorry about that,” He lets himself feel guilty now, but it’s dull and muted now that he’s got Brendon soft and sleepy in his arms.

Brendon doesn’t respond for a few minutes and Dallon is sure that he’s fallen asleep before Brendon says quietly, “I love you.”

Dallon feels warm all over, holding Brendon tighter. “I love you too, baby.”

 

 


End file.
